The harmonies of a long dead choir.
The fragrance of a bloom, extinct a thousand years.
The light from a star, millennia cold.
Last winter's snow.
It was, it is no more.
Its beauty filled a moment
That moment, and a million like it
Gone.
Beauty and memory are poisoned alchemy.
The thick, saccharine venom is wrung from the heart nerve
Nostalgia, a dignified name for the worship of decay.
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Author:
kitthornton (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2017 23:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- User favorite of this poem: Jacob Bennett.
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Comments1
Such a beautiful poem!
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